


Flirting with Danger

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Discipline, M/M, Mention of Past Abuse, Non-consensual punishment, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Peter is amazing and badass and wonderful and I love him okay, Spanking, Underage Character, Underaged clubbing, Whipping, underaged drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Started as a kink fill, evolved to a longfic filled with pack feels.<br/>In which Derek tries to be a good Alpha for everyone, Isaac tries to find his place in the world and Stiles is the brattiest brat to ever brat. Also Isaac and Stiles may or may not be involved, and Peter and Derek may or may not be jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The music was almost too loud, thumping in his ears and vibrating through his chest. Stiles closed his eyes as he took another sip from his drink - something bright blue and most likely more alcoholic than he was legally allowed to have - and let the heat of the room wash over him. The room of the Akonite was filled to the brim with people, the crowd moving their bodies as one to the beat. When he opened his eyes again, he tried to catch sight of Isaac. Stiles had parted ways with him a while ago, but he could sometimes see the curls appear in the crowd, every time with another partner next to him. He hoped Isaac would find a nice girl - or guy - to spend the rest of his evening with, but he wished even harder that he would find someone himself. The guy who had treated him the drink had been nice, but with the dark brown eyes and shaggy hair reminded him a tad too much of Scott to be really comfortable.

The alcohol was finding its way to his head, Stiles realised, when everything started to move just a bit slower than usual. He grinned, finishing off the drink and putting the empty glass on the counter, before moving away from the bar, into the mass of people. The bodies moving against his would’ve been an invasion of his personal space at any other moment, but tonight, it felt just right. He made his way towards the middle of the room, mimicking the dance moves of some guys that he passed, and if he swayed his hips with a bit more enthousiasm than necessary, then sue him. He closed his eyes and let the music consume his body and his mind, banning out every last thought of the previous couple of disastrous days.

He opened his eyes again when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Isaac was standing in front of him, sweat dripping from his curls, his usual scarf and jacket discarded in favour of showing off the too-tight shirt that really did emphasize his werewolfy muscles very well. At least in Stiles’ humble opinion. It was still slightly frustrating that everyone around him was drop-dead-gorgeous, but he had gotten used to it most of the time, and it gave him something to look at when he was bored. Or when he had a couple of drinks, apparently, because he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way the shirt clung to Isaac’s stomach. At least until Isaac leant closer to him, which made his attention turn to Isaac’s face instead. “Are you alright? I could hear your heart rate pick up from the other side of the room, which is something only Derek does, usually.”

Isaac really was close. Stiles could see the little drops on his cheek, the smell of his cologne mixing with the sweat and creating a scent that he shouldn’t find arousing, but did anyway. He took a deep breath and started laughing. “Yeah. Dude, I feel awesome.”

He really did, strange enough. He couldn’t hear the music anymore, only felt the bass running through his body. Isaac’s hand on his shoulder was heavy, and he could feel the touch through the fabric of his t-shirt, giving him goosebumps down his arm.

Isaac snorted and stepped close enough for their bodies to almost touch. “I figured.” He placed his other hand on Stiles’ hip, moving it up just enough so he could run a finger over Stiles’ skin underneath the shirt.

The world slows down even more and Stiles figured that, yes, he would definitely like Isaac to come even closer and put those hands around his neck, to press and hold and who knows, maybe they could go home together tonight - Stiles would really like that. Would like to slide his own hands over Isaac’s skin and lick his way up his chest. The mere imagination was making him aroused, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Isaac. The taller boy sniffed the air, grinning down at Stiles as his eyes flashed gold, which according to Stiles, is the prettiest colour in the universe, no doubt about it.

“So it’s true then. You’re into guys?”

Stiles lazily blinked at him, smiling as he lifted his arms - were they always this heavy? - and wrapped them around Isaac’s neck, moving up to stand on his tiptoes and press their noses together. “Maybe.”

Isaac’s reply was to lean in closer and tilt Stiles’ head so their lips could touch each other. This was, Stiles thought to himself as he felt his eyes slip closed, totally awesome and should be repeated all day, every day, on several different locations.

Way too soon, Isaac pulled away, and Stiles let out a disapproving huff, trying to pull him close again.

“Derek.”

“No, Stiles.” Stiles corrected him, with a frown. “You didn’t think I was Derek, right? Are you drugged? Did that powder make you high? Oh my god I’m such a..”

“No.” Isaac hushed him, trying to hear over the loud thumping of music. “Derek is here.”

“What? But you said he went out.” Stiles tried to look at the corners of the room, trying to catch a glimpse of Derek’s hair or - in a worst-case-scenario - a flash of red eyes. “Isaac..?”

Isaac had his head tilted to the side, as if he was listening intently, but then he turned back to Stiles, a frown on his face. “I think he’s calling.”

Stiles stared at him, the fuzz in his head making it impossible to put one and one together. So when Isaac took his wrist, he just let himself be pulled towards the exit, even though he really wanted to stay and dance more.

The outside air was chilly on his face, tiny droplets catching on his cheeks. It made him laugh, and he opened his mouth to catch the rain in his mouth, stumbling over his own feet as they were walking over the parking lot. When Stiles looked up to see where they were going, he caught sight of an all-too-familiar black car, with an all-too-familiar figure leaning against it. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. “Really? I feel like I’m being picked up at school.”

The glare that was cast in his direction, would usually have been enough to make Stiles feel at least a bit uncomfortable, but now he only smirked and turned his head away. “Fine. Home it is, then.”

He reached towards the handle of the door, but Derek beat him to it, pushing him in with enough force Stiles landed on his chest, Isaac quickly following and helping him sit up, before turning towards Derek, who was sliding in the front seat. “Derek, I’m sorry.”

“Put on your seatbelt.” Was the only reply, and Stiles did as he was told, leaning back against the cool leather of his seat. The fuzziness inside his head seemed to have moved towards his stomach, and when they started driving, he had to take a couple deep breaths to keep himself from throwing up. This wasn’t a fun development.

On the background, he could vaguely hear Derek’s voice, “What did you give him?”

“Nothing. He just had something to drink.”

“He doesn’t _smell_ like ‘just a drink’. Are you stupid? Don’t you notice that it’s _obviously_ something else, too?”

Stiles raised a hand to stop Derek from shouting abuse at Isaac - since the guy had a way too pretty face to frown like that. “Just painkillers. And some Adderall. I’m fine.” It was a bit of a lie, since he felt his stomach coil and gurgle. “Wow. Fuck.”

Derek’s head snapped back as he glared at Stiles. “If you throw up in my car, I will drag your face through it and make you eat it, I swear.”

Those words were enough to make Stiles’ stomach give up on keeping everything contained, and he unlocked the door and threw it open, watching as Derek maneuvered to the side of the road. He waited until the car had screeched to a halt before he leant out, emptying his stomach on the concrete.  There were stars in front of his eyes, and he could feel tears rolling over his cheek as he stomach rolled and rolled until it finally calmed down enough for him to sit up again. He kept a hand on the door, in case he started feeling nauseous again, and weakly glanced up to see both Derek an Isaac staring at him. This time Derek’s expression is more worried than furious, so Stiles gives him a weak thumbs-up. “Good to go.”

He carefully closed the door, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and gratefully accepted the bottle of water that was offered to him. At least his head was feeling a bit more clear now, the buzzing having finally left. He gulped down the water in one go, keeping the empty bottle on his lap. He kept his eyes focused on his hands, instead of the direction they were going. It was a surprise when Derek pulled up at his place, instead of dropping Stiles at home as he had expected. When he frowned at Derek, he got a cold look back. “We need to talk first.”

“Can’t that wait?” Isaac asked, as he got out of the car. “Stiles could really use some sleep, and I..”

“You were well enough to go out and party, you’re well enough to listen to what I have to say.” Derek interrupted, locking his car and making his way to the entrance of his flat. “Get inside.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stiles (slightly involuntarily) takes the fall for Isaac, and Derek questions his decision to create a pack full of teenagers.

Ten minutes later they were all standing awkwardly in Derek’s living room, having some sort of stare-off, until Derek broke the silence. “So,” he said, placing his hands on the edge of the table. “I’m too tired to give you a talking-to about why it was so wrong what you did, so I’m just going to ask this once.” He paused, eyes shooting from Stiles to Isaac, ”whose idea was it to completely ignore my orders and go out?”

Stiles and Isaac exchanged a look, before looking down at the floor and shrugging. Stiles thought they must look like children who were caught stealing candy, but the whole pack dynamic already has enough of a family hierarchy-feel to it that Stiles really didn’t want to think about it that way. His stomach still felt like it was going to heave, and he was glad he had been practicing on keeping his heart rate stable, because he could’ve sworn Derek’s eyes rested on him longer than was strictly necessary. He didn’t speak up though, just put on his most innocent face, and tried to ignore Isaac fidgeting next to him. The kid was awful at lying, or playing it cool when confronted with something like this.

Apparently, their mutual silence lasted too long, because Derek’s eyes flickered red, and he pushed himself away from the table with enough force that it slid several inches forwards.  “Fine. Alright then.” Stiles felt relief flooding his body as Derek didn’t seem inclined to start screaming. That was way better an outcome than he’d expected. But instead of angrily walking away, or start screaming at them anyway, Derek sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. It was such a not-Derek-kind of thing to do, that Stiles stilled again. Isaac seemed to grow even more uncomfortable, so when Derek called his name, he practically jumped a mile. “Y-Yes, Derek?”

Stiles watched curiously as Derek started unbuckling his belt, and Isaac paled and took a step back when Derek said. “Take off your pants.”

“What?!” Stiles said, more of an unbelieving statement than an actual question, and frowned at Derek. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Isaac winced, trying to hide himself behind Stiles’ shoulder - which obviously didn’t work, since he was way taller than Stiles could ever hope to be, and Derek gave him an unamused look, absentmindedly running his hand over his belt. It took Stiles a couple of seconds staring at it before he put one and one together, and then his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Wow, wait, Derek, you can’t..”

Isaac spoke up as well. “We talked about this, can we just..”

“We did.” Derek interrupted them, raising an eyebrow, giving him a look that reminded Stiles that Derek and Peter were family. That wasn’t a good thing. “Which is why I’m wondering why you’re not yet taking them off, Isaac. Don’t make me tell you again.”

Isaac let out a pathetic whine, but to Stiles’ disbelief, started kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his jeans. Stiles grabbed him by the arm, stopping him. “Dude, no, I’m not letting him hit you.” He glared at Derek, then at the belt Derek was holding, and he huffed. “You’re a dick, Derek,” before starting to walk towards the exit of the apartment, dragging Isaac with him. “I’m taking Isaac home.  It wasn’t even his idea to go out, for fucks sake.”

“Stiles..” Isaac started, and then Derek growled, sending a shiver up Stiles’ spine. Before he could turn around, however, there was a hand fisted around the back of his shirt, and his feet didn’t touch the floor anymore. He started struggling to get his feet on the floor, and for a second he thought it worked when he was dropped in front of the table, but then his face was being smacked against the cold wood. When his mind caught up with his body, he tried to push himself up, only to flop down again when Derek’s hand pressed against his lower back. He was vaguely aware of Isaac running up to him, but cowering when Derek growled at him. Just peachy. “Ouch. Okay, Sourwolf, you made yourself clear.” He mumbled against the table top, wriggling to get free from Derek’s iron grip. “But you need to keep it real, dude, you can’t hit Isaac.”

The reply came in the shape of a loud _crack_ , and Stiles gasped for air when he could feel pain blossoming in his behind. “Ow! Fuck, what?”

“I can hit you.” Came Derek’s voice somewhere from behind him, and Stiles turned to look back in disbelief. “Uh, no, you can’t? Let me go, you jerk!” He struggled again, but the hand on his back only pressed down harder, keeping him still. He suddenly got the brilliant idea to slap at Derek’s arm with his own hands, and did exactly that. When Derek let go of him, he shot up, only to be smacked down again, Derek holding both his wrists in one hand this time, pressing them against Stiles’ back. Stiles gasped, the movement having knocked the breath out of him. Derek’s voice was next to Stiles’ ear when he said; “Try that again, and I’ll hit your hands as well.”

At the next blow, Stiles bit down on his lip to keep himself from wincing. Even through his still clouded mind, that hurt. Suddenly the half-joking stories his dad used to tell him about being hit when he grew up didn’t seem that funny anymore, and he could feel his heart rate picking up as the pain got worse with every passing second, spreading from his behind to his upper legs. “Holy..” He breathed, blinking as the haze of alcohol and painkillers drifted away, leaving only the painful clarity of the moment. He could feel the burning lines on his ass, the weight of Derek’s hand on his back, the scratch of the wood against his cheek.. It made him angry. Derek had no right to do this to him. Stiles hadn’t done anything wrong. He started wriggling again, trashing around with his legs, and smirked when his foot connected with Derek’s leg. He heard Derek curse, and then Stiles’ hands were free, allowing him to scramble up. He turned towards Derek, just in time to get a look at the man’s face before he got a hold of Stiles’ ear, tugging at it as he snarled in his face. “What did I tell you?”

Stiles yelped, trying to get his ear free. This was just plain embarrassing. “Ow, Derek, you’re really hurting me.”

“What did I say I would do,” Derek said slowly, tugging harder at Stiles’ already abused ear, “if you tried it again?”

Stiles felt tears appear in his eyes, and his bottom lip trembled as he tried to speak, his voice smaller than he would like. “You’d.. Hit my hands? Dude, you can’t be serious, just let me go.”

Derek snorted, and let go of Stiles’ ear. “That ship sailed ages ago. Extend your hands, palms up, fingers spread.”

Stiles, who had reached for his burning ear, trying to cool it down with his palm, swallowed thickly as he looked up at Derek again. Surely Derek could smell the fear radiating of him in thick waves. Why wasn’t he stopping now? “Derek.. Come on, dude. This is ridiculous.”

Derek only raised an eyebrow, the rest of his face completely blank. “Hands, Stiles.”

Stiles stared at him for a second, With a shuddering breath, Stiles raised his hands in front of him, and squeezed his eyes shut when he saw Derek raise the belt. When the leather came in contact with his right hand, he couldn’t suppress the tears that escaped his eyes, and when his left hand got the same treatment, he let out a sob, clutching his hands to his chest and glancing up at Derek from underneath his lashes as he spoke, “Are you done now?”

“One would think punishing  you might shut you up for once.” Derek said, grabbing the back of Stiles’ neck and pushing him towards the table again. “No, we’re not done. Bend over.”

Stiles felt his stomach drop. “No.”

Derek’s eyebrow shot up again. “No?”

“You can’t just do this.” Stiles blurted out, braver than he felt. “I just took Isaac out for the evening. We shouldn’t need to ask for your permission for everything. And you most certainly can’t beat me up because I didn’t do like you planned.”

“I explicitly told you to stay at home.” Derek growled, “Because there were still hunters on our territory. Because you were already hurt. My orders were meant to protect you.”

Stiles snorted, even though guilt fluttered in his stomach and his behind tingled in horrible anticipation. “You’re not doing a great job protecting me now, are you?”

Derek closed his eyes in annoyance, and for a sweet second, Stiles thought he was getting away with it, but then his cheek was met with the wooden table once again. They were slowly becoming best friends now.

When he felt the belt resting against his jeans, he stiffened, tears threatening to spill again. His heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest, his stomach rolling over and over and...

There was a short silence - some kind of hesitation maybe? - And when Derek spoke, it was softer, the growl no longer present in his voice. “5 more. Count them out loud, alright?”

“Like I have a choice.” Stiles replied, trying to sound defiant, but mostly failing.

“Make that six.” Derek said, and then the belt was gone. Stiles closed his eyes and held his breath in anticipation. It seemed like ages before another _crack_ sounded and his body was slammed against the table by the force of the blow, a sharp sting spreading on his behind. “O-One.”

 At the second blow, he couldn’t keep from letting out an involuntary cry, clenching his hands into fists and whining when that gave him the same burn on his hands. “Fuck.” The tears that had been burning behind his eyelids welled over when he blinked, hot as they trailed down his cheeks and dotted the wood beneath him. “Two.” He took a deep breath, doing his best to suppress the urge to struggle against the hand holding him down. It took most of his self-control, so when the next blow hit him he couldn’t help the cry that escaped him before he could reign himself in. He opened his mouth to count, but didn’t manage to speak, only sobs leaving his mouth.

“What was that?” Derek’s voice sounded like it was coming from through a solid mass of water, as if the hand holding Stiles to the table was actually holding him underwater. “I didn’t catch that.”

Stiles shook his head, swallowing thickly, before choking out something that could be interpreted as a number with some imagination.

“Good.”

The last three strikes landed in rapid succession, the pain covering seemingly every inch of his behind, and when Derek let go of Stiles’ wrists, his legs decided they didn’t have to do their job anymore, so he simply slid down to the floor, not even flinching when his sore body came in contact with the ground, just curling up and willing himself to get out of the daze he had slipped in. His entire body was hurting, muscles aching as if he’d had a particularly rough lacrosse training, his head thumping. He lifted his hands to wipe at his eyes with his sleeves and then he was lifted to his feet. His heart did a double take, but then there were arms around his chest, hands rubbing soothing circles on his back and Derek’s gruff voice in his ear. “Don’t make me do that again.”

Stiles had never agreed as easily to something in his life.

Tomorrow he would most likely feel angry, upset and hurt, but as he clung to Derek’s shirt and sobbed against the older man’s chest, he could finally feel the tension that had been building in his body for the last 18 hours slip away, being replaced with an all-consuming exhaustion.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Derek and Isaac do a lot of talking, and Peter takes the matter in his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: mention of past abuse / panic attack / mentions of past discipline
> 
> Massive thanks go out to Triggertinks for bètaing this chapter! There were many mistakes and incorrect tenses that I would never have noticed, so she made this chapter that much more pleasant to read, for which I thank you, m'lady. Please take a moment to check out her amazing stories on here (I'm making a podfic for one of them - look forward to that!)
> 
> Also, almost 2000 hits on this story? I could smooch you all.

  _ **F**_ ** _lashback:_**

 

 

_“Hey Derek.” Isaac mumbled, breathing slowly as he grew more sleepy. “Will you tell me about your family?”_

_Derek’s hand stopped where he had been rubbing Isaac’s stomach. They were pressed together on the mattress on the floor in the room that would become Isaac’s bedroom when they finally got the flat cleaned up, arms and legs tangled to fit on the limited space. “What do you want to know?”_

_Isaac shrugged, snuggling closer to Derek’s neck, nuzzling his cheek against the soft skin on Derek’s shoulder. “Anything. LIke, wasn’t it weird living with other werewolves? Without any privacy?”_

_Derek’s chuckle vibrated through their bodies, and Isaac relaxed again, glad he hadn’t offended his Alpha._

_“I never really thought about it,” Derek admitted, rubbing his cheek against Isaac’s curls and continuing to knead (is cool. Wtf is fondle th) his stomach. “We didn’t have a lot of privacy, but we had soundproof bathrooms for…” He trailed off, leaving the sentence to finish itself._

_Isaac chuckled. “No bringing boyfriends or girlfriends home then.”_

_Derek shook his head with a grin. “Nope.”_

_“But what if you got in trouble or something?” Isaac continued, frowning. “Wasn’t it awkward everyone could hear you? I was always glad the neighbours couldn’t hear when my dad..” He shut up then, mouth snapping shut. Derek sighed, pulling the teen closer. They lay in silence for a while, until Derek let out a snort and Isaac jumped. “Usually my dad took everyone out for a run when one of the kids got in trouble, so mom would have the privacy to scold us. Most of the time we just had to stay home from a camping trip when we did something.” He reminisced for a bit, seeing all too clearly his mom’s stern face telling him to not eat so many cookies. He quickly pushed the thought away and focused on the present._

_“There, uhm, was one time - don’t you dare laugh - me and my siblings tried out this one basic spell on Peter’s bodywash and it made him cackle out loud every couple seconds. It was hilarious and the most annoying thing at the same time. And we got in trouble for using magic, because of how dangerous it is if you don’t know what you’re doing.” Derek smiled softly. “That was probably the only time mom punished us when the others could hear it.”_

_“Hear?” Isaac repeated, looking up curiously. “What did she do?”_

_Derek’s face flushed slightly. “She, uhm,” he cleared his throat, before chuckling, “She’d put us over her knee. It was ridiculously embarrassing at the moment, knowing everyone knew what was happening.”_

_Isaac didn’t reply, and after a couple minutes of increasingly awkward silence, Derek pushed up slightly, looking down at the curly-haired teen next to him. “Are you okay?”_

_“She’d hit you?” Isaac asked, voice flat. Derek let out a breath of relief when he understood. “It wasn’t like that, Isaac. She didn’t hurt us. Not like your father did. There’s a very distinct difference between being disciplined and being abused. Do you understand?”_

_Isaac was silent for a bit longer, and Derek was about to change the topic when the younger boy shifted. “Does that mean that if I do something wrong, you will hit me?”_

_Derek let out a hum as he considered how to answer. Finally he settled on complete honesty. “I might. If you do something stupid or dangerous.” When Isaac started to smell distraught, Derek pulled him closer, letting their noses meet. “I would never hurt you like your father did, Isaac. It’s not like that. What he did was wrong. A punishment is meant to teach you something, not to make you fear the person administering it, alright? I wouldn’t ever want you to be scared of me.”_

_He waited for Isaac to nod before he continued, “If I ever think it’d be necessary to punish you like that, we’ll talk about it.”_

_Isaac nodded again, a small smile on his face. “Alright.”_

_“Good.” Derek closed his eyes and snuggled deeper into the pillow, tickling Isaac’s stomach until the boy turned on his side._

_“You know, you’re not that bad an alpha.” He grinned, which earned him a soft growl from Derek. “Hey, just saying.”_

_“Shut up and sleep.” Derek ordered, without any heat._

_Isaac smirked. “Yes, oh mighty alpha.”_

_“Don’t do that.”_

_“I’m sorry, oh mighty alpha.”_

_Derek groaned. “You’ve been hanging out with Stiles too often.”_

_“It’s addictive.”_

_“Hanging out with Stiles is?”_

_“No.” Isaac replied with a snort. “His sarcasm.”_

_“Great. Soon there’ll be two smart-asses around me. Like I needed that.”_

_“You love us.” Isaac said, and then buried his face in Derek’s neck, obviously intent on going to sleep. Derek hummed, and wrapped his arm around Isaac’s waist, closing his eyes and drifting off almost immediately._

 

* * *

 

 When Derek got back to his apartment he wasn’t surprised to find Isaac sitting on the couch curled up in his pajamas with a blanket and a bottle of iced tea, waiting for him - or so Derek assumed. He decided to let the kid stew in his own juices for a bit longer, and dragged himself to the kitchen to grab himself a can of iced tea - he would have preferred coffee, but the rational part of his mind told him that wasn’t a healthy habit at 3am. He could hear Isaac fidgeting in the other room and sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he wondered how and why he had ever thought it would be a good idea to surround himself with teenagers. He’d thought they would be more rational, easier to talk to, easier to explain things to, easier to set boundaries and limits because they were young enough to learn it all. Yet here he was, sitting in the kitchen at 3am after putting Stiles to bed - who’d ever thought that would happen - and still having to deal with another delinquent. He really wasn’t up for this.

When he heard the pitter-patter of Isaac’s bare feet, he took a large gulp of his tea, lowering it just in time to put on his stern face as Isaac appeared in the doorway. “Yes, Isaac?”

The teen looked down, chewing his lower lip in a way that reminded Derek an awful lot of Cora, which hit him in the face like an iron fist. He had to blink a couple times to get the heavy feeling off his chest and focus on Isaac, who was trying to utter a sentence. “Stiles.. Is he, uh, okay?”

“He fell asleep,” Derek replied calmly, taking another sip of his iced tea, “So I guess he is okay.”

“Good.”

There was a long silence where Isaac tried to stare a hole in the ground. Derek was about to get up and go to bed when Isaac spoke again. “It should’ve been... You should have hit me.”

“He admitted to it being his idea,” Derek shrugged, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes at the heroic gesture.

“But he doesn’t heal,” Isaac replied, looking up for the first time, his eyes flashing. “I do.”

Derek growled lowly, and put down the can of tea harder than he intended. “What is your point, Isaac? That I shouldn’t have done it because he’s human?”

Isaac stiffened, biting his lip again, subconsciously taking a step back. “I’m not saying that, I mean, you.. You’re the Alpha, you can do whatever you want, I guess, it’s just that...” His voice trailed off as he walked towards Derek, flopping down on his butt on the floor next to him. “You’re not mad at Stiles anymore.”

Derek didn’t say anything, simply finished the don't use so many caps woman, tea and wiped his mouth, raising an expectant eyebrow.

“And you’re still angry with me.”

“I’m not angry,” Derek said, realising that he really wasn’t as soon as the words left his mouth. Tired, annoyed, disappointed that his pack wouldn’t listen to him even after all they went through together, yes to all of those - but not angry. He let out a sigh as he raised his hand, feeling Isaac’s wince before he saw it. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at the boy’s unnecessary fear, and ran his fingers through Isaac’s hair, letting his hand rest at the nape of his neck, scratching gently. He could feel Isaac lean into his touch, tense muscles sinking back into a more relaxed posture. “And I promised you we would talk about it if I ever felt like I needed to punish you, didn’t I?”

There was an awkward minute of silence before Isaac looked up at him, swallowed and said - “Is this us talking about it?”

“I guess it is,” Derek said, moving his hand to Isaac's shoulder so he could keep the comforting effect of touch. “Are you going to stay on the floor?” 

“Yeah.”

“Alright.”

Once again there was silence and Derek found himself growing annoyed with it, but pushed his discomfort down. He couldn’t help the harsh undertone in his voice when he spoke. “You put yourself in danger today."

Isaac winced, but didn’t recoil. “Yeah. I didn’t know there were still hunters on our territory.”

“I told you to stay home, didn’t I?” Derek asked, gathering some of Isaac’s curls and tugging gently. “There was a reason.”

“I’m seventeen, Derek, my entire personality is designed to go against rules set by authority figures,” Isaac sighed dramatically, leaning his head against Derek’s thigh, and just like that all of Derek’s annoyance disappeared and was replaced by amusement. He tried to keep himself from  broadcasting it too much to Isaac, because he was supposed to be scolding the teen.

“Well, you should stop,” Derek informed him, tugging at the hair again. “It’s going to get you in trouble.”

“I am trouble,” Isaac replied.

Derek snorted. “Yes, you are. Songs are written about kids like you,” he let out a sigh and ran his free hand over his face. “Look, Isaac, I’m..  You need to understand that going against one of my orders is unacceptable. You know I’m gonna have to find a way to punish you, right?”

Isaac stiffened against him, and Derek played with his hair again, trying to keep him calm. The boy took a deep breath and relaxed slightly, but his shoulders were still tense. “Yeah. I know.”

“Isaac...” Derek groaned, not knowing what he could say or do to make this easier. “ I need..”

“To hit me.” Isaac completed the sentence, voice carefully even, but there was a slight pang of fear hidden underneath. “Yeah, I know. Do you need me to get your belt?”

Derek closed his eyes and internally groaned. He wasn’t cut out for this. He tried to imagine what his mom would do if she was confronted with this situation, but drew a blank. If his mom were here there wouldn’t have been a situation in the first place. She would have made sure the teens were at home and surrounded by movies and snacks to keep them occupied while they were healing. It was stupid of him to have not thought of it earlier.

“Isaac. Look at me,” Derek ordered. Isaac’s head snapped back immediately, eyes huge, reminding Derek of his little brother. Jesus. “If you can’t deal with it we can work something out, alright? You could just...” Derek paused, trying to think up something boring and shrugged. “Clean the kitchen or something. We should really clean out the freezer before the winter.”

“No!” Isaac cried out, scrambling away from the table and Derek. Derek jumped up from his chair and was staring at the teen in confusion. Isaac was whining, ridiculously sad yelps escaping him as his heart fluttered like a distraught pup. “No. No, I’m sorry, Derek. Please don’t,” he covered his head as soon as he reached the wall, trembling. “Please don’t.”

“Son of a...” Derek cursed, as he realized what the problem was. “Fuck. Isaac, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he swallowed, running a hand through his hair. He had no idea how to deal with this. His wolf growled in frustration, Derek bit his lip to keep from shifting. “Isaac! Stop this.” He tried to order, but the boy only whined louder, eyes flashing gold as he glanced up from underneath his elbows, sounding more like a wolf cub than a human teenager. “Shit, shit, shit,” Derek took a step closer, thinking that maybe if Isaac could smell him - smell pack and safety - he would calm down. It used to work on him when he was younger, so maybe... Isaac growled when Derek took another step, baring his fangs at him. Derek stopped, feeling his own teeth grow as his wolf sensed the threat.

There was a shuffle of feet behind him. Derek turned around and found Peter standing in the doorway wearing a pair of loose jeans with his hair still wet from a shower, dripping water onto the floor. He glanced from Derek to Isaac and immediately strode over to Isaac and crouched down in front of him, grabbing his wrists and moving them away from his face. “Hey kid,” Peter murmured, rubbing their cheeks together and wrapping his arms around Isaac, forcing their bodies to clash together, Isaac’s nose buried against Peter’s neck. “You need to calm down, alright?”

Isaac whimpered in reply, and Peter chuckled. “Yeah, I know. You gave me quite the scare with your yelping.” Another whine, lower this time, and Derek watched in wonder as Isaac’s face grew more human, fur retracting. "There we go. Good boy,” Peter said, his voice warm and pleasant, as he stroked the back of Isaac’s neck. There was a final soft squeal from Isaac, but then the boy was quiet, body slumping against Peter as sobs shook his body. “Aw, there’s no need for tears, kiddo.” He squeezed Isaac closer, and Derek was all of a sudden painfully reminded Peter had just become a father when the fire happened. No wonder he came running when Isaac started making those distressed noises. There was a small smile on Peter’s face as he rubbed comforting circles on Isaac’s back, humming as the sobs grew quieter and quieter until they finally stopped. He then slowly pulled back, wiping away the tears that were still on Isaac’s face. “Are you okay?”

Isaac nodded, sniffling once before looking up at Derek. “S-sorry, I...”

Peter interrupted him with a huff. “Nothing to be sorry about, Isaac. You can’t help being triggered.”

Derek quickly agreed. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

Isaac took a deep breath, looking from Derek to Peter, then back to Derek, obviously wondering at a complete loss of what he should say or do next. “Do I have to…” he started, licking his lips and wiping at his eyes again. “Uhm, do you want to…?”

Derek opened his mouth, but Peter shook his head at him and put his hand on Isaac’s lower back. “You’ll go shower and get ready for bed.”

“But what about..” Isaac said, before swallowing and looking at the ground. “My, uh, punish...”

“I’ll take care of it.” Peter said, raising a questioning eyebrow to Derek. “I think Derek could use a break.”

Derek nodded blearily and Peter threw him a smile with a 'we’ll-talk-about-this-later' look, before guiding Isaac out the kitchen and up the stairs. Derek could hear them talk softly, then the sound of running water. He heaved a sigh, grabbed his leather jacket and headed out to get himself a burger, intent on wallowing in his own frustration for a while.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter does as he promised and Isaac learns that pack is family (It's REALLY less fluffy than it sounds)  
> Trigger warnings for mention of past abuse.

Isaac sniffed a last time as he looked in the mirror. His eyes were puffy, and his cheeks stained with tears that slipped out after he got out of the shower. He averted his eyes as he wrapped one of the large towels around himself, drying the last drops of his skin. He hated crying. His father had told him only children cry, and whenever he caught Isaac doing it, he would yell at him. Or worse. He quickly discarded the memory and looked around, remembering all his clean clothes were still in his bedroom. The clothes he had been wearing before were sweaty and dirty, so those weren’t an option either.  
With a sigh, he stalked outside, quickly passing through the hallway and pushing open the door of his bedroom, almost dropping the towel at the sight of Peter sitting at his desk. He instinctively pulled the towel up higher. “Uhh.”

“Covering your virginal chest?” Peter asked, eyebrow raised, and Isaac stared at him for a couple seconds, before he let out a huff. “Yeah. Totally. What are you doing in my bedroom?”

“I told Derek I would take care of it.” Peter said with a smile, pushing himself away from the desk. “It being you.”

Isaac took a step back, closer to the door, keeping the option to bolt away if necessary. “Well, you have to wait until I’m dressed.”

“Of course.” Peter said, magnanimously, but didn’t move or look away, so Isaac tightened his grip on the towel. They stood like that for a while, until Peter rolled his eyes and sighed, before turning towards the window in the room, muttering.

“You know I can hear you, right?” Isaac said as he darted towards his dresser, pulling out a pair of boxers and a pair of sweatpants, tugging them on and then rummaging through the drawers to find a shirt. He didn’t. Isaac let out a soft curse.

“Finished?” Peter’s voice said, and Isaac turned around to see the man a lot closer than he was before.

“Y-yeah.”

Peter smiled at him, and Isaac felt his face flushing, even though there wasn’t any reason for. “Look, uhm, about what happened downstairs..”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But I..”

“Isaac.” Isaac’s mouth snapped shut. “I said don’t worry about it. You’re not the first kid I’ve calmed down.” Another smile, and Isaac found himself aching to know more about that. He actually didn’t know anything about Peter, except for the ‘murderous-beast’- story. “And seeing how things are going in Beacon Hills, I doubt you’ll be the last.” He reached out and put a hand on Isaac’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “I know this is probably weird, and I know you don’t particularly like me, but you’re my family now, so I’ll take care of you when I have to.”

There was a silence, before Isaac nodded, and Peter dropped his hand and turned around. “And I think this is one of these times.” He sat down on the bed and motioned for Isaac to sit down next to him. Isaac followed after a beat of hesitance, sitting down carefully, making sure there was space between them.  
“I really am sorry.” He said, looking down at his hands, “for everything.”  
“That’s a lot to be sorry for.” Peter said dryly, turning to look at Isaac, “And also not necessary. Look, Isaac…” He sighed, and put a tentative hand on Isaac’s shoulder again, “You know that’s what punishments are for, right? You did something wrong, you get punished, you don’t have to feel guilty anymore because it’s in the past.”

Isaac shrugged, the miserable feeling returning to his stomach. “My dad…”

Peter interrupted him with a scoff. “With all due respect, Isaac, your father had a very distorted image of the proper way to raise you.” He sighed, and moved his hand to the back of Isaac’s neck, playing with some of the longer curls there. “Look, you’re going to feel like crap until we get this over with, and there’s really no way to make it any less awkward.”

Isaac glanced up at Peter, swallowing thickly when he met the older man’s eyes. “No, I guess not.”

“Alright.” Peter said, a small smile back on his face as he squeezed the back of Isaac’s neck, managing to make him feel more relaxed. He briefly wondered how that worked. It hadn’t been a thing before he was turned. “Get over my lap.”

Isaac’s eyes widened and his throat suddenly felt dry. “What?”

“Over my lap.” Peter repeated, patting his thighs. Isaac glanced at them, back at Peter’s face, and back at his lap, not quite understanding what was asked. Peter rolled his eyes, and tightened his hand on Isaac’s neck, guiding him until he toppled down over Peter’s knees. It was incredibly awkward, his legs too long for this position, and he had no idea what to do with his limbs. There was a huff from Peter. “Jesus, kid, you’re heavy.”

“Sorry.” Isaac mumbled, trying to adjust himself. “It’s because of lacrosse. Muscle weight-oomph.” He felt Peter move his knees and suddenly he slipped forward. He shot out his hands to catch himself before his face smacked against the floor. The position wasn’t any more comfortable, but at least he didn’t feel like he was going to ungraciously slide to the floor anymore.  
“You can grab my ankle if you want to hold on to something..” Peter’s voice said from above him, and Isaac turned his head to glance up at him, blinking viciously to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes. He wasn’t five, god dammit. “But no claws. If I even feel the slightest prickle of claws, I will double your punishment. Same goes for struggling and kicking - you’re old enough to keep still.”

Isaac took a deep breath, turning back to stare at the concrete floor. Focus on the floor. Focus on your hands. When he felt Peter’s hand on his behind, he stiffened, heart rate skyrocketing, and he took Peter up on his offer, wrapping his hands around the man’s ankle, holding on for dear life. Peter’s hand moved to his lower back, rubbing gently. “Calm down, Isaac.”

Isaac tried, he really did, but it was hard to calm himself down when his body was automatically getting into survival mode. His wolf was scratching at his skin, and when he bit on his lip, he could feel his fangs sliding out. “I can’t.” He muttered, trying his best to keep his claws from coming out as well. “I’m sorry, I really can’t.”

“Of course you can.” Peter’s voice said, frustratingly calm, a stark contrast with how Isaac felt. Peter’s hand was still rubbing soothing circles on Isaac’s skin. “Focus on my heart beat.”

Isaac took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and focused on the steady thumping of Peter’s heart, copied the rhythm of his breathing. 

“There’s a man.” Peter praised, and Isaac felt the wolf curl up, eyes sliding closed. “Good job, Isaac.”

Isaac’s chest swelled with Peter’s words, but the proud feeling quickly disappeared when Peter started tugging at the waistband of his sweats. He tried to reach back and stop him, but his hand was slapped away. And then his pants were down his legs, leaving him very bare-bottomed and still lying over Peter’s lap. A flush crept up his cheek as he lowered his head again, wrapping his arm around Peter’s calf as he let out a small whine. This was really humiliating.  
“Oh hush. I saw you run naked after a rabbit last week.”

“… Right.” Good point. That didn’t make this any less embarrassing, however.

The first slap took him by surprise. He had expected a warning, or at least to hear it coming, but he had been too busy thinking about how he was lying pretty much naked over the lap of an older man who wasn’t related to him. It wasn’t how he had expected his night to end at all. He anticipated the second hit, but still gasped, because it stung. It didn’t hurt, not really, and especially compared to the treatment Stiles had gotten earlier that evening, he should count his blessings. He held on to Peter’s leg, and tried to relax, mentally counting every ten slaps.

When Peter stopped, Isaac looked up in hopeful surprise. That hadn’t been that bad. His behind felt a bit warm, and the skin was sensitive to the touch, but nothing like what he had imagined.

“No, we’re not done yet.” Peter said mildly, and Isaac’s stomach dropped. “Can you remind me why I’m doing this, Isaac?”

Isaac frowned. “Because you’re punishing me.”

“Why?” Peter asked as his hand rubbed over the pink skin of Isaac’s behind, the sting being steadily replaced with a pleasant glow. It was distracting. Isaac was trying to think here. About what he did wrong. Not about anything else. At all.

“Because I… Didn’t listen to Derek?”

“And?”

Isaac lay in silence for a moment. “I… Because I let Stiles take the fall for me?”

The slap was hard enough to shake Isaac out of all comfortable zones he had been slipping in. “Ow!”

“Try that again.”

“I don’t know.” Isaac said, annoyance bubbling up in his stomach. He shifted to look up at Peter again. “What else did I do?”

Another slap, and Isaac yelped. “I said I don’t know!”

Peter sighed. “What were we talking about earlier, Isaac? I’m not doing this because I find particular joy in the action, you know.”

Isaac flushed, and averted his eyes.

“Why did Derek tell you to stay home?” Peter asked, his voice once again too calm for Isaac’s liking. This would be much easier if Peter would just be angry and get it over with. He was related to Derek, wasn’t he? Derek was good at angry. That reminded me.  
“Because there were hunters on the territory.” Isaac echoed Derek’s earlier words. “And because I was still healing.”

Peter didn’t say anything, but gave Isaac a pat on his thigh, encouraging him to continue. Isaac licked his lips and tried to go through the conversation he’d had with Derek. Oh. As realization sunk in, the tears threatened to well up again. “Because it was dangerous, and I could get hurt.”

“Very good.” Peter shifted above him, and then his hand came down again, harder than the last time. Isaac squinted his eyes shut, clenched his jaw to not wince as the sound of his spanking echoes through the room. This was more like what he’d imagined, except now he felt guilty for not listening to Derek’s orders which were meant to keep Isaac safe. To protect him. It was stupid to go against them, and he grabbed Peter’s ankle tighter as he wondered why he’d let Stiles lure him out. Sure, going out had seemed tempting, but they could’ve gone the night before. Or the day after.  
He was pulled out of his thoughts by a particularly harsh slap on his thigh, and he let out a cry.

“Still with me?” It was a rhetorical question, but Isaac still nodded. “Good.”

The spanking became harder - or did his skin just get more sensitive? He couldn’t really tell - and after a couple minutes Isaac couldn’t help the cries that escaped him with every slap. He involuntarily started squirming, but Peter’s hand pressed down on his back, holding him still. It was a silent warning, but Isaac got it. “Sorry.” He gasped. “I’m sorry. I just can’t… Please stop.”

Peter didn’t respond, and the slaps just kept raining down, setting Isaac’s behind on fire. He pulled himself closer to Peter’s leg, as if he could escape the assault on his ass like that. “Ow. Peter, shit. Ah, stop! I’m sorry, I get it, please.” Any embarrassment he had had before completely disappeared as he almost begged Peter to have any mercy on him. He didn’t.

It was another full minute before Peter’s hand came to a rest on his behind, and Isaac was shocked to find his nose was running, sobs shaking his body as he lay over Peter’s lap.

“There there, we’re done.” Peter said, his voice gentle as he rubbed up and down Isaac’s back. It took a couple minutes until he stopped feeling like sobs were taking over his body. He crawled up when Peter tugged up his trousers, and managed to get them back on with only a wince. He sniffed as he got on his feet, and rubbed at his eyes, angrily wiping his tears away. He wasn’t supposed to cry. “Sorry.”

Peter got up from the bed and wrapped Isaac up in a hug, pulling the boy close to his chest. It took him a few seconds, but then he returned the hug, leaning his head against Peter’s shoulder and letting the last of his sobs out. When Peter rubbed his back, he felt 9 years old all over again, having his dad console him after he scraped his knee in the backyard. He marveled in the moment for a bit longer, letting the familiar scent of pack surround him completely, until he felt calm enough to pull away. He then gave Peter a watery smile. “Thank you.”

Peter smiled back, and ruffled his hair. “Anytime, kid.”

“I’d rather not.” Isaac said, placing a careful hand on his behind. Even through his pants, he could feel the heat radiating of his behind.

“Me neither. Come on, let’s get you some water before you go to bed.”

Isaac hesitated for a second, before shrugging to himself and deciding to give it a shot. “Hot chocolate?”

Peter just threw his head back and laughed, shooing Isaac out of the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

Isaac woke up from a particularly vivid dream about chasing chickens. He then went through a 30 second panicked phase when he looked around and there were feathers everywhere, including in his mouth. His mind settled when his eyes caught sight of the shredded pillow. “…Shit.” Well, at least he didn’t go sleep-hunting. He would have to get himself a new pillow, though. He lay back and looked at the ceiling, breathing in the morning air. He hadn’t woken up as early as usual, since he couldn’t smell the dawn clinging to the grass, or the birds singing their early song. Isaac liked those birds, even though he was sure they didn’t share the feeling anymore. One morning after the full moon, he had accidentally killed one that was brave enough to come sing on his window sill, and since then they stayed away from his window, sitting on the tree outside, not daring to come close to the hairy monster in the bedroom. It made him a bit sad, because he really hadn’t meant to snap its neck. It’d just smelled like food. As soon as he realized what had happened, he’d run to Derek to see if they could save it, but his alpha had raised an eyebrow and snatched the bird away from him, throwing it in the trash and demanding Isaac got the blood cleaned of his skin. Isaac did as he was told, but picked the bird out of the trash later, burying it underneath the tree outside his bedroom window. If Derek noticed, he didn’t say anything about it.

Isaac stretched, curling and uncurling himself, enjoying the pop of his muscles, the rush of waking thrumming in his veins. He let out a yawn, and sat up, a dull pang of pain reminding him of the previous night, of Peter hauling Isaac over his lap, his hand setting fire to his behind. He could feel blood rushing to his face as he remembered how he’d cried against the older man, and how he’d felt like a child. With a groan, he dropped his face in his hands, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing until he could see the universe flashing behind his eyelids. This was going to be one of the most embarrassing mornings. Peter and Derek were downstairs, at the kitchen table, Isaac suspected, since he could smell coffee and bread and the disgusting cheese Peter liked to eat. He could hear them talking, Peter’s melodic hum and Derek’s rough morning voice, even if he couldn’t hear what they were talking about. Isaac focused on Derek’s steady heartbeat, and he let himself relax. If Derek was still angry, Isaac would be able to sense it. Just like that, the conversation downstairs came to a halt, and Derek called out to Isaac to come downstairs.  

“Good morning, pup.” Peter greeted him, when he entered the kitchen. Derek looked up with a soft smile and patted the seat next to him, and Isaac felt his heart flutter at the simple action. Being a werewolf was really weird, he had decided that almost as soon as he’d become one, but one of the strangest things was still how easily Derek’s affirmation or rejection could make or break Isaac’s entire mood. It was like mind-control, but with a lot more feelings and emotions.

“Morning.” Isaac yawned, slipping in at the kitchen table and eagerly reaching towards the steaming coffee pot, but paused midway to glance at Derek, waiting for a sign that the coffee was also meant for him. When Derek nodded, Isaac poured himself a large cup, immediately taking a sip. He was surprised to find that he felt completely relaxed, none of the stress of the past couple days still present in his body.

“Slept well?” Peter asked, cutting through the silence, and Isaac looked up to see the older man smiling at him - grinning in amusement would be a more accurate description.

“Yes…?” Isaac replied, more a question than an actual answer. Peter chuckled, and Derek rolled his eyes. “Don’t tease, Peter.”

Isaac’s eyes flashed from Peter to Derek, then back to Peter, and he frowned, uncertain what Peter was getting at, and kind of afraid of what it was. Myabe Peter had told Derek all about how Isaac had broke down and cried. He didn’t want Derek to think he was weak. He wasn’t. Maybe. “Huh?” His voice was a lot more crackly than he intended, and he sucked in his bottom lip as he cleared his throat and said, “What?”

“You’re a very vocal sleeper.” Derek said simply, before he took a sip of his coffee, and Isaac’s face immediately flushed, remembering the ripped pillow and the feathers in his mouth.

“We’re very proud you caught the chicken.” Peter said, voice amused, and Derek choked on his coffee as he laughed out loud. Isaac’s mouth dropped as he watched both Derek and Peter chuckle. It was an unfamiliar sight, which made the entire situation the more embarrassing. Even though he was strangely excited to see them both this happy. He bit his lip and thought that maybe Peter had been right, that after yesterday, he was forgiven for disobeying Derek. The thought made the last knot in his chest loosen, and he cracked a small smile, taking a sip of his coffee and muttering. “It’s not funny.”

“We can get you a new pillow.” Derek managed to get out, before he reached over and plucked a white feather out of Isaac’s hair. “I take there’s not much left of it.”

“I devoured that chicken.” Isaac agreed, and he couldn’t help the edge of pride in his voice, because it had been the first dream in weeks that hadn’t been a nightmare, and that was something to be proud of. Peter grinned, and finished off his sandwich, flushing it with the remains of his coffee. “If you’re ready and dressed, I’ll take you to Ikea.”

“Bring some pillows for the couch.” Derek ordered, glancing at the bare living room. “Maybe a carpet.”

“If you want to re-design the interior, you better go yourself.” Peter rolled his eyes as he got up, motioning for Isaac to finish his coffee. “Chop chop, Isaac.”

Derek got up at the same time as Isaac did, grabbing both of their mugs and rinsing them in the sink. “I’m going to check on Stiles.”

Isaac stopped mid-walk as he remembered Stiles, his cheerful mood disappearing almost immediately. “Oh.”

“No.” Derek said, as if reading Isaac’s mind. “You’re not going to blame yourself.”

“But…” Before he could let his mind wander to the place where everything in the world was Isaac’s fault, - Stiles liked to call it the Derek-Hale-Syndrome that was transferred by his bite - Peter’s hand was on his shoulder, roughly steering him towards the stairs.

“Get dressed and text Stiles that I’m on his way.” Derek said, and Isaac took a deep breath, before he nodded and ran upstairs to grab his phone.

 

* * *

 

Waking up was one of those things Stiles never really liked. Whether he’d had a good dream, a nightmare or didn’t dream at all, making the transition from the world of his mind to the real one was always a shock that made him drowsy and disoriented for the first thirty minutes of his day.

Waking up on this particular Saturday wasn’t any different. He blinked awake to the light of the sun touching his eyelids, groaned, and rolled on his back. He immediately regretted his decision as his body’s soreness made itself known and the memories of last night came back to him. He rolled back on his stomach and sighed. “Ouchie.” His behind ached in sympathy.

There was a knock on his door, before it swung open, and his dad peered inside. “Stiles? It’s almost ten, are you ill?”

Stiles very carefully pushed himself on his knees, wincing at the sting that spread through his hands when he leant on them. “Ow.”  He turned to look at his dad, putting on a smile. “Hey dad.”

His dad raised an eyebrow. “Looks like it was one hell of a party.”

“You don’t even want to know.” Stiles agreed, deciding to just get it over with and swinging himself off the bed and on his legs. His lower body ached all over, but aside from that, it seemed he was alright. “Ugh.”

“Come on, breakfast’s ready.”

“Yes sir!” Stiles saluted, and couldn’t help the wince as the movement made the sadly already familiar sting spread through his hand. That was going to hurt like a bitch today.

His dad’s slightly amused expression slipped into a concerned one when his eyes caught on Stiles’ hand. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

“My hand? Nothing’s wrong with my hand! Why would you think there was something wrong with my…” Stiles rambled, hiding them behind his back as his dad walked up to him and tried to grab his wrist. He turned and squirmed, managing to escape his dad’s grasp. “No. Dad, come on.” Finally his dad got hold of one of Stiles’ wrists and pulled it towards him. Stiles watched in slight horror as his dad turned his hand and his eyes caught side of the red welt that covered his palm. “How did you get that?”

“I don’t remember.” Stiles lied, easily, but kept his eyes downcast. “I only now noticed it.”

“Liar.” His dad said, with a fond smile, but his brows still creased in worry. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this kind of…” He said, but then shrugged and dropped the topic. “Let’s go put some ice on that.”

 

“So I’ve been thinking maybe we could do something today.” His dad said, over the plate of egg-whites Stiles had shoved at him. Stiles looked up, a piece of bacon falling from his mouth, and his dad raised an eyebrow at him. “I have the weekend off, so we can go visit that large movie store you like, catch a movie and some greasy dinner and come back tomorrow. It’s been a while since we actually did something like that.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at the ‘large video store’, since it was actually one of the biggest video games and movie store in California, and was about to reply excitedly when he realized that that would mean having to sit in the car for several hours. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to sit still for that long, and he felt his face drop, the excitement leaving him faster than water running down the drain. “Aw, man, I really want to, dad, but, uhm, I have this geography group work due Monday, so…” He really hated Derek at the moment. Very intensely hated. Hated him enough that he could very well never talk to him again.

His dad gave an understanding nod, making Stiles feeling a lot worse about lying to him. It was slowly becoming a habit, and it was awful. “Maybe another time.”

“Of course.” His dad said, taking a sip of his coffee, before getting up and putting his plate in the sink. “Don’t forget to take your meds, kiddo.”

“On it.” Stiles muttered, watching his dad walk out of the kitchen with an increasingly tightening knot in his stomach. It was for the best, he told himself, to not have his dad figure things out until Stiles was ready to tell him. Not that Stiles would ever tell him about last night’s events, no sir, not ever. Staring down at his breakfast, he realized he really wasn’t hungry anymore, and just pushed his plate to the side with a sigh.

“I’m in my room.” He called out to his dad, and made his way upstairs, passing by the bathroom to take a shower. As the water was heating up, he couldn’t help himself, and slipped his pajama pants down to take a glance at his behind in the mirror over the sink. To his surprise, there was hardly any evidence of Derek’s punishment. There was a small bruise on his right thigh, and when he ran his hand over his bum, it tingled underneath the touch. “Huh.” It had felt like Derek had beat the crap out of him, yet no one would be able to tell what actually happened. No one except Stiles, who would be reminded every time he sat down for the next couple days. And anyone who looked at his hands. There were two angry red lines running over his palms, curling around his hand. His dad had some ointment on the welt, frowning at Stiles when he’d raised his other hand apologetically, asking for the same treatment. “I bet I don’t want to know, do I.”

“You don’t.” Stiles had mumbled, and that had been the end of that conversation.

He sighed heavily, and finished undressing, careful to not put too much stress on his injured hands. As he got in the shower he muttered to himself about how ridiculously weird his life had become. Maybe he’d text Isaac later to check if Derek hadn’t torn him apart. The buttface.

 

When he entered his room again, the largest towel he could find wrapped around himself and making him feel like a large burrito, he was almost not surprised to find Derek sitting on his bed. “Why do you always just appear?” He said, instead of a greeting, tightening the grip on the towel and walking over to his dresser, grabbing a pair of boxers and a shirt. “Would it hurt you to let me know you’re coming by?”

“Isaac texted you.”

“I was showering,” Stiles said, as he turned his back to Derek, dropping the towel and quickly slipping on his boxers. Derek’s presence had made his relaxed feeling slip away, being replaced by an embarrassed sort of grumpiness. “Why are you here?”

As he turned back to Derek, the alpha had an unamused expression on his face, which made Stiles’ stomach clench uneasily. “I came to check up on you. See if you were alright.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes, suspicious of Derek’s true intentions. “Really now.”

“I’m the alpha.” Derek said simply, as if that explained every bit of weirdness. He got up and walked over to Stiles, grabbing his chin and studying his face. “You didn’t sleep well.”

Stiles scoffed - or made a sound that would be a scoff if he could properly move his mouth. “Of course I didn’t.” He mumbled, and pulled back, bumping against the dresser and wincing as it reminded him of how sore he was. “Can you just leave?” He didn’t want to have Derek there to come make fun of him. It was embarrassing enough to see the man after last night, let alone to be meticulously studied. Or have Derek look at him with that ridiculously confused expression as he asked. “Are you angry with me?”

Stiles gaped at him, and then did his best to glare. “Angry, embarrassed, mortified, take your pick, big guy.”

“Why?” Derek sounded completely lost, and Stiles threw his hands in the air as he flopped stomach down on his bed.

“Maybe because you beat the crap out of me and had to basically carry me home afterwards.” Stiles muttered against his pillow, wanting nothing more than to sink away and have Derek never ever see him again. For a week, at least. “What part of that isn’t clear enough?”

“I didn’t beat the crap out of you.” Derek said, dumbfounded, as he sat down next to Stiles. Stiles glanced up to look at Derek’s face, and it seemed honest enough. Huh. “You did something wrong and I punished you. I’m sorry it happened at an unfortunate moment, but it really was only a matter of time. If I want to build a stronger pack, I can’t have you, or Isaac, for that matter, acting up and disobeying a simple rule I set out.”

Stiles huffed and buried his face in his pillow again, moving to lie on one cheek so he could still speak. “So is this going to be a regular thing? I do something you don’t like and you just hit me?”

“I could treat you the same as Scott and bite you until you submit, if you’d prefer that.” Derek said, with a small grin, and Stiles snorted at that.

“No, thank you. I don’t want you to hit me, though. It hurt like a motherfucker.”

“It was meant to hurt.” Derek’s hand was suddenly on his back, rubbing circles in a soothing rhythm. “And it would have been a lot less bad if you hadn’t struggled the way you did. I had trouble keeping you down.” As if it was an afterthought, he added, “You’d be a strong wolf.”

It was so close to a compliment Stiles temporarily forgot his indignance and looked at Derek with a surprised expression on his face, before he managed to get his pokerface back on. “I still don’t want to be one.”

“I know.”

Stiles sighed, and allowed himself to sink into Derek’s touch, enjoying the positive attention in contrast to the previous evening. “I’m sorry for not listening.” He said, softly, and Derek squeezed his shoulder. “I didn’t think it’d be that bad.”

“If there are hunters, we wait 48 hours to be sure there’s not threat.” Derek said, his hand digging into Stiles’ shoulder in a way that it could almost be considered a massage. “I should have told you.”

“Yeah.”

“You should have trusted me.”

Stiles sighed. “Yeah.”

“Alright.”

After a minute of comfortable silence, Stiles asked, “And Isaac?”

“He’s fine. You can come over tonight and see for yourself, if you want.”

“Sounds good.“ Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, and realized that any of the anger he had still left, was completely gone after their conversation. He wished he could tell Derek without sounding like a fool. So he just rolled over on his back and sat up, ignoring the throb of his butt. He gave Derek a serious look, and then slowly tipped his head back, exposing the line of his throat to Derek. A clear sign of acceptance, according to the internet. Derek gave him a wide grin, and buried his nose against Stiles’ neck, rubbing himself against Stiles.

“You need to tell me stuff like the hunter-thing, though.” Stiles said, between little huffs of laughter. “I can’t deduce it from your glaring.”

“Don’t ruin the moment.” Derek muttered in amusement, and Stiles just laughed softly, secretly relieved Derek had come to see him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Isaac and Stiles fuck up (again), and Derek has to figure things out.

As usual, it had seemed like a good idea when they had been at the loft, glaring at their chemistry homework and wishing desperately for the week to end. Stiles’ eyes had caught on the keys innocently hanging from their neat little hook in the kitchen area. And as soon as the idea had been in Stiles’ head, there really was no other way for the evening to unfold as it did. It was fun, there was a lot of alcohol involved, and somewhere along the evening he had ended up shotgunning Isaac, which was exactly as hot as it sounded. And it was going great, really, they had been on their way back to the loft, hardly able to keep their hands of each other. Of course, it was because of that that they hadn’t really seen the stump of the tree Derek had cut down a couple weeks before.

Luckily both got out of the car unharmed, but it still gave them enough of a scare that all of the effects of alcohol and weed drifted off, leaving them very clear-headed and horrified as they stared at the smoking, upside down remains of the Camaro.

 

“Holy shit.”

“Oh my god.”

“We are so very thoroughly fucked.”

“In the best case scenario.”

“Really, Isaac? Really?”

“I’m trying to take the attention away from the wreck that originally was Derek’s very expensive car.”

 

* * *

 

“Uh oh.” Peter looked from Isaac, who was innocently sitting on the couch, pretending to read an upside-down magazine, to Stiles, who was very unconvincingly pretending to be  looking out of the window. “You two are looking positively guilty today.”

Isaac dutifully kept his eyes on the magazine, but the tips of his ears were steadily growing pink, and Stiles snapped his head away from the window to look at Peter. “What? We’re completely innocent. We’re the poster children of innocence. We’re not guilty of anything at all.”

Of course Peter could immediately hear the blips in his heartbeat, so he raised an eyebrow as he dragged his suitcase inside, making Stiles cast his eyes down. Peter rolled his eyes and sighed. There went his peaceful evening. “Whatever happened, bother Derek with it.” He made sure to speak slightly louder than usual, so that when Derek appeared in the door a couple seconds later, carrying the gifts they had gotten from the Chicago pack, as well as two duffel bags, he was wearing a suspicious expression. 

“Bother me with what?”

Peter inwardly snickered, and took one of Derek’s duffel bags. “I’ll be unpacking. Toodles.”

 

Peter was a dick. Of course Stiles always knew that he was a dick, but calling them out to Derek was the kind of  action that moved him up to the top of the dick-meter. It moved him up so high the dick-meter exploded. And that was  where the comparison should really end before Stiles started off the wrong trail of thoughts. So Stiles ignored both Peter and Derek, in favor of looking back out of the window. Isaac however, seemed unable to not answer his Alpha. “We … Need to tell you something, Derek.”

“Nothing important, though.” Stiles lied easily, eager to postpone telling Derek about his car. “You should totally unpack first. We can talk tomorrow. Or the day after that.” He glanced over his shoulder to see Derek staring straight at him, mouth turned down into the all too familiar half annoyed, half disappointed expression Stiles had began to associate with his own presence in Derek’s flat. “Or never. I can very well live with never.”

“Tell me.” Derek said, simply, breaking the eye contact and making his way towards the table, gracelessly dumping the several packages on top of the table. “And then you’ll help me unpack and we’ll get something to eat.” He started organizing the packages in seemingly random orders, before glancing up at Stiles. “Is your dad working the morning shift?”

“Double shift, yeah.”

“You’ll come along then, you’ve lost weight.” He stopped rummaging through the gifts and looked up with a frown when there was no affirmation from either  of the  boys. “It’s something bad, isn’t it.”

Isaac quietly closed the magazine and sat up, leaning his chin on the back of the couch and looking up at his Alpha with the same pair of puppy eyes that made Stiles want to squeeze his cheeks. Derek didn’t seem to buy it. He stood up straight, crossing his arms and really showing off every muscle and vein and Stiles really couldn’t handle this. “… Maybe.”

Derek sighed. “Well I should have anticipated this. Spill it.”

Stiles shared a look with Isaac, who was trying to disappear in the cushions of the couch, leaving Stiles to do all the explaining. As usual. Next time,  Stiles would spike his weed with more than a bit of wolfsbane. “We, uhm, may have crashed your car.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Excuse me?”

Stiles tried a small apologetic smile. “It was an accident.”

“An accident.” Derek repeated, and Stiles took a step back when he saw Derek’s left eye twitching. “You crashed my car.”

“Yeah.”

“You mean the one you had no business being around in the first place.”

“…Yeah.”

“The one that I never gave you permission to use.”

“It wasn’t just me, Isaac was involved as well!”

Isaac looked up, eyes wide. “I wasn’t as high as Stiles!”

Derek tore his eyes away from Stiles, and Isaac bit his lip. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“You were… How do you even get high?” His voice was a mix of confusion and fury, with a hint of awe, and it made Stiles shiver.

“Mixed pot with dried wolfsbane.” Stiles muttered, and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Derek, it was really stupid, but can we look at the bright side here? We both got out of it unharmed, and…”

“What did you do with it?” Derek interrupted him, voice cold. “You just left it where you crashed?”

Stiles opened his mouth to deny it, but closed it again when he realized that was exactly what they did. Derek was silent for a couple seconds, before he cursed, his eyes flashing red. “Isaac, come here.”

Isaac almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to walk to Derek, and Stiles had a horrible flashback to when Derek had picked them up from that party. He took a step forward, intending to step in when things went awry, but Derek lifted a hand in his general direction, halting him. He turned towards Isaac, who was biting his lip and looking for all the world like he wanted to sink into the ground. “I’m really disappointed in you, Isaac. I expected something like this from Stiles,” \- Stiles’ mouth dropped - “but not from you. I just… I’m not even going to deal with you right now. Just go…” He took a breath and waved his hand, “stand in a corner until I’m not pissed anymore.” And to Stiles’ disbelief - he should really start believing Derek’s alpha-ness - Isaac nodded, and Stiles heard him mutter an apology before he went to stand in a corner, head leaning against the wall.

“And then you,” Derek started, and Stiles snapped his attention back to the older man, “You should know much better than driving while intoxicated. You know, with your dad being the Sheriff and all that.”

“I was bored.” Stiles countered, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. “I can’t help making stupid decisions then.”

“Well you better learn to control those urges then.” Derek snapped, making Stiles jump. “It wasn’t just stupid, it was plain dangerous. If you want to make childish decisions, I will treat you as a child.” Stiles tried to keep his chin up, but it wasn’t easy under the man’s intimidating glares. “Take another corner, and stay.”

Stiles sighed. “Look, Derek, I totally respect your authority…”

“No, you don’t.” Derek sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Alright, I occasionally may have questioned your choices and commands, but…”

“Stiles.”

“I think,” Stiles continued, a bit louder, “that we should actually talk about this, instead of you just barking at me - hah, barking - ow, no, come on!”. Derek had grabbed him by the arm and was dragging him towards the other side of the room. Stiles balked once more. “Derek, you know I can’t stand still, you can’t just put me in a _corner,_ I’m not 7 years old anymore.”

Stiles could pinpoint the exact moment Derek’s face went from ‘really done’ to ‘so much beyond done it’s a miracle you’re still walking’, but by the time he did, it was too late to do anything about it. So when he grabbed Stiles by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the window, it was not really a surprise anymore. Stiles didn’t even wince, though he swore one of his shoulders made a cracking noise when he came in contact with the glass. He did remember to cast his eyes down when Derek glared down at him - something Scott had said about challenging the wolf and how that was a very bad thing. “I have **had** it with your back-talking, Stiles. You either go stand in that corner and be quiet…” He tightened his grip on the shirt, and Stiles’ heart sped up. “Or I will give you such a beating you won’t be sitting for a month. Your choice.”

That wasn’t even fair. That was very much not even close to remotely fair. Stiles lifted his head, looked at Derek’s face for signs he was being sarcastic or just throwing empty threats his way, but there were red eyes and a very intense stare and Stiles felt the familiar rush of panic running through his veins. So he nodded eagerly, his voice rough when he croaked out. “The corner is fine.” Better than the alternative at least.

“That’s what I thought.” Derek spat, letting go of Stiles’ shirt and turning away. Stiles watched him stalk up the spiral stairs, leaving Stiles and Isaac alone in the room. He let out a sigh and shook his head as he did as Derek told him. He could hear Derek speaking angrily, but couldn’t make out the words. For not the first time, he wished for his ears to be more sensitive, so he could figure out whether he had to make a run for it and lock himself in his werewolf-proofed room until Derek decided that it was ridiculous and would not hurt him. That’s was when he heard a door slam closed upstairs, and Derek’s voice sounded more clearly.

“They crashed my car.”

Peter’s voice was as calm as always when he answered. “I know, Derek. But it’s just a car. There’s no reason to be this upset about a vehicle you can easily replace if you’d just pass by the bank and accept the transfer…”

“They crashed _Laura’s_ car.” Stiles may have been imagining  the way Derek’s voice cracked when he spoke, but it still made his stomach churn uneasily. Of course Isaac had heard it as well, because his head snapped away from the corner for the first time, and he looked at Stiles in panic. “ _Laura_ ’s car? Isn’t that…”

“Derek’s sister, yeah.” Stiles replied quietly, as realization sunk in. “Jesus, I didn’t know. Oh my god, we’re horrible people.”

“He’s going to kill us.” Isaac’s voice was a lot higher than usual, and Stiles might have thought it funny if he hadn’t been afraid Derek might actually kill them this time.

 

As it turned out, Derek did little more than send Stiles home a couple hours later, telling him to not come near the loft for a week. It was at once much less and much more than he felt he deserved, and it was with a heavy lump in his throat he opened the front door of his own house. For some reason, being send home without any tangible consequences felt worse than it would have if Derek had kept with the trend of physical punishment. Having him mule over the past day was more torture than anything else. He grabbed a bottle of energy drink from the fridge, and made his way to his room. He had intended to spend half of the night on the internet, but as he looked at the screen of his computer, he felt the need to actually do stuff disappear. So he just changed into his pyjamas and crawled in bed, pulling the covers over his face to drown out anything but the darkness and the sound of his own breathing. It didn’t work, and he ended up falling in and out of a light sleep filled with the burning wreck of the Camaro and Derek screaming.

 

** ISAAC’S POV **

 

“Derek?” Isaac bit his lip and shuffled his bare feet on the floor, hesitating in the doorway. It had taken him five minutes already to build up the courage to open the door and speak. Yet everything he had been rehearsing fell away as he looked at the lump in the middle of the bed. “I… Uh.”

“Go to sleep, Isaac.” Came Derek’s voice from the bed, where he was curled up underneath the blankets. If someone’s back could flip him off, it was pretty sure that was what Derek’s back was doing. “It’s late.”

“I know.” Isaac said, taking a step into the room, trying to on the one hand ignore the urge to run up to Derek, wrap himself around his alpha and look for comfort, and on the other hand not give in to the pull to run out of the room. “Can I stay here for a bit?”

There was a beat of silence, before Derek sat up and gave him the most icy glare Isaac had ever seen. “No. Go to your own room.”

Isaac felt his heart drop to his stomach, but he put up his chin and decided to try and explain. “I had a nightmare.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt like the biggest idiot in the world. Apparently Derek thought so as well, because he raised his eyebrows and gave Isaac the ‘are you serious’-look. Isaac dropped his eyes. “I can just sit on the floor. I promise I’ll be silent.” His voice shot up an octave on the last words, and he cleared his throat as if there was something stuck in there, instead of it being his nerves. He could feel Derek’s gaze on him, even though he couldn’t meet his eyes, instead focusing on wiggling his toes. Then there was a sigh.

“Go drink some water and go back to sleep, Isaac. You’ll fall asleep again eventually.”

He wanted to say something, to try and convince Derek to let him stay, just so that he could have Derek’s presence calm him down, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything else than nod. “Alright. Uh, goodnight. Sorry.” He quickly made his way out of the bedroom, and closed the door behind him. He ran a hand through his hair, and let out a sigh. He actually didn’t know what he had expected. Derek was still upset with him, that much was obvious, but it still stung to have Derek reject him so vehemently when he worked up the courage to ask for comfort.

 

“You okay, pup?”

Isaac looked up, wrangling his face in a half-grin as he met Peter’s eyes. “Hey. Yeah. Totally fine. Peachy.”

Peter snorted, and walked over to where Isaac was leaning against the counter, casually leaning next to him. “Bad dream?”

“Nightmare.” Isaac corrected him, turning his eyes back to his glass of water. He really didn’t want to talk to Peter about it. Or to anyone, for that matter. Not that anyone else would want to listen - Derek made _that_ painfully clear. “You don’t have to call them bad dreams. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Ah, of course not.” Isaac heard a shuffle behind him, and was certain Peter was going back to bed. That was, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He stiffened, but Peter only patted his shoulder, using his other hand to put on the kettle. Isaac was going to blame some kind of animal instinct for the way he turned around and practically wrapped himself around Peter’s chest, pressing his nose against Peter’s neck. All instinct. Obviously.He focused on the scent instead of the still semi-uneasy feeling he got around Peter most of the time, and allowed it to make his tense muscles relax. Peter hummed against his hair, and when he ran a hand down the back of Isaac’s neck, he felt like he would melt into a puddle right there.

“There we go.” Peter said, and pulled back slightly, eliciting a whine from Isaac.“Now none of that. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Isaac blearily looked at him for a couple seconds, and did his best to suppress the wobble of his lower lip as he admitted, “Derek hates me.”

Peter rolled his eyes, and reached out to ruffle through Isaac’s hair, softly tugging at one of the strands, same as Derek did. “He doesn’t hate you. He’s just not sure what he should do now. You did, after all, destroy one of the last remaining tangible memories of his sister.”

If possible, Isaac’s lip started trembling more vehemently. At least that was how it felt, and in that moment he couldn’t bear looking at Peter. “You can just tell me I’m a horrible person.”

There was a huffed laugh, and then Peter was gone, back only seconds later with a steaming cup of tea. “Don’t be dramatic. You’re not. You just… Have some problems with authority. We’ll take care of that.”

“Like you took care of me last time?” Isaac carefully asked, casting Peter a cautious glance.

Peter smiled, and blew away some of the steam of his cup. “Not tonight.”

Isaac frowned. “That’s not really a guarantee.”

Another smile. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“Oh.” 

Peter handed him the cup of tea, before pushing away from the counter. “You’re going to go back to your room and drink that, and then you’re going to try and sleep.”

Even though Peter wasn’t any more of an Alpha than Isaac was, he could feel himself aching to obey. So he just nodded, and allowed Peter to escort him back to his room.

 

* * *

 

 

** STILES POV **

 

“I don’t think I have ever in my entire career had such an ignorant abomination of a student in my class.” Harris sneered, not even bothering to look up from the papers he was grading. “Your face alone makes me want to endanger my job if that means I get to wipe that cocky smirk of your face.”

Stiles looked up from his desk, frowning. “I don’t smirk.”

This time Harris did look up, a horribly amused smile lifting the corners of his lips. “And here it is again, your voice talking back to me when I explicitly instructed you to keep quiet. You’d almost think you’d want detention for the rest of the week.”

Stiles clenched his hands into fists, taking a deep breath and settling down again, trying to keep his cool. He knew Harris was just trying to get a rise out of him, and he wasn’t interested in humoring the man. “Not at all, sir.”

He turned his eyes back to his desk, and traced the lines of a particularly complicated swirl one of the students who’d been here before him had drawn. It looked like something that would easily fit in with some of the magical symbols Stiles had been looking up. Maybe he could design his own symbol. One that would repel evil chemistry teachers.

He was brutally pulled out of his day dream by said evil chemistry teacher, who slammed a graded test in front of Stiles. “I would say I’m surprised, Mr. Stilinski, but I’m really not.”

“Neither am I.” Stiles muttered, glancing at the bright red F on top of the paper, before he dropped his head in his hands and sighed. There was no way today could get any worse. He hadn’t slept, Scott refused to talk to him, he was stuck in detention for another hour, and he was failing chemistry. Not to mention how his phone had died so there was no way to let Derek know why he wasn’t outside to be picked up. He shifted in his seat, wincing when that sent a spark of pain through his back and breathed out a soft gasp. Isaac hadn’t seemed to be this bothered by sitting, did he?

“You know,” Harris said brightly, walking back to his front desk and leaning against it. “I’d think that you’d have tackled your problematic issues by now, since they seem to land you in detention time all the time.”

Stiles shrugged, and didn’t answer. It was probably the best to keep his mouth shut and avoid getting in even more trouble.

“Or perhaps,” Harris continued, “it’s because your father isn’t around enough at home to hand out punishment for the things you perpetually fuck up.”

Stiles closed his eyes and pushed down the anger he felt bubbling in his stomach.

“So I ask you, Mr. Stilinski, does he work the extra evening shifts to earn more money…” His voice was closer, but Stiles ignored him. Breathe in, breathe out. He tried to focus on the sound of cars in the parking lot, instead of the drone of Harris’ voice, no matter how gleeful it sounded. The man was an asshole. “Or because he just doesn’t want to spend those evenings with you?”

But that was one step  too far. Stiles jumped up from his seat and slammed his hands down on the desk. “Shut up!”

Harris’ smile widened. “Excuse me?”

“You…” Stiles started, feeling like his heart was going to jump out of his chest, “have no right to talk about my dad like that.”

“But I do, Mr. Stilinski.” Harris said, leaning down on Stiles’ desk and positively glowing with glee. “Because you won’t tell anyone, would you?”

Stiles stared at him, jaw slacked, and he realized that Harris was right. Who would he tell? The school wouldn’t believe him, he wouldn’t bother his dad with it, Scott would give him an emphatic look and tell him it couldn’t be that bad. Harris smirked. “That’s what I thought. Now sit down. There’s still an hour left.”

Stiles would gladly punch him in the face. Several times. For now, he settled on imagining the way Harris’ cheek would feel under his fist.

 

When he finally got out of detention, he was basically fuming with anger. The rest of the hour had been equally frustrating, Harris making stabbing remarks about his dad, throwing in a comment about how if his mom was still alive he might have turned out better than he had. Stiles was surprised he hadn’t attacked the man, but he hadn’t been unable to suppress the tears. He angrily wiped at his eyes, even though they were dry now, and ran a hand through his hair. He doubted he could get the scent of distress of his skin before getting in Derek’s car, but he would damn well try.

It took him five minutes to realize Derek was driving his Jeep, since the Camaro was still smashed against a tree in the preserve. He rolled his eyes as he walked up to his baby, running a loving hand over her door before he pulled it open and got inside. “Hey.”

“You’re late.” Derek glanced up from the book he was reading, and Stiles gave him a small smile.

“Sorry. Detention.”

“That happens an awful lot.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Geez, are you now also my dad?”

When Derek raised an eyebrow, he groaned. “Sorry. It was a bad day, and Harris gave me a hard time in detention.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“You were listening in?”

Derek shrugged, and closed the book. Stiles glanced at the title. The Catcher in the Rye. Huh. “You were upset.”

“I’m upset a lot of times.”

“You are.” Derek muttered, as he started the car, making Stiles wince. “Careful with my baby, Derek. You’re hurting her.”

“Then you know how it feels.” Derek’s voice was light, but it was still enough to break through Stiles’ carefully put up exterior. He tried to hide it with a shaky laugh, turning his face to the window so he could blink the tears away. He couldn’t wait to get home and go slaughter some zombies on his Playstation. He closed his eyes, and let the familiar grumbling of the jeep drown out his thoughts. When the car came to a sudden stop - really, Derek was killing his car - they weren’t in front of his house, but in the parking lot of his favorite fast food restaurant. He frowned, opening his mouth to ask why they were here, but Derek beat him to it. “Fast food makes you feel better.”

“It does, but…”

“Stiles.” Derek said, pausing as he opened the door and slid out of his seat. “I know you think I don’t give a shit, but I do. You had a bad day, and as your alpha it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”

“Yeah right.” Stiles couldn’t help but mumble, when he got out the car.

Derek shut the door, walking over to Stiles and giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Come on. You can get the biggest portion of curly fries and give me a detailed description of how you want to shred Harris to pieces.”

“Awesome.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Orphaned with all the love. Goodbye buddy.


End file.
